Was jetlagged last night and didn't get to bed till 3 or so. Naturallywoke up a bit startled at 10:00 and stumbled out of the hotel. As Iwas walking out the hotel doorman asked where I was headed and if Ineeded a taxi. I thought this was a good opportunity to test what hethinks the rate should be. He mentioned that for islamic cairo 25-30;which seemed absurd as the guidebook said 10-when I showed that tohim, he said "book lies" and also that I could take the hotel car for70. Oh well, needeless to say, I walked out and hailed one myself. Heagreed to 15(allright wasn't 10, but wasn't 25 either). Arrived atAl-Azhar, which is very much in the heart of everything--in asquare(midan) called midan al-Hussein. Its actually pretty nondescriptand melds into its surroundings, everything is pretty much sandcolored, in contrast to the colorful markets of course. It was foundedin 970 and the university(madrassa) in 988, apparently it is the placethat solidified the concept of large educational institutions, aka,mother of the concept of University.
Anyways, back to the mosque--itis easily identifiable because it has three different minarets made inthree different centuries (14th-16th). I entered the courtyard andfollowed some women who were heading right, assuming they were headedto the ladies section, but then noticed that they were entering thisarea that seemed like a large confessional, when I peeked in, therewas a scholar sitting and deliberating on some argument between a guyand a woman and these other women were getting in line to have theircase heard I guess. Entered the main prayer hall and noticed somewomen praying and said, hey why not. There were a few men restingduring their aytekaaf I guess. This caucasian woman also walked inwearing a black chador all the way down to her ankle. I struck up aconversation with her while we both were taking a few pictures, shewas from France and had been in Cairo for a month now. How is it thatthe Europeans can take these times off and make it work? Our conversation was cut short by a beggar asking us for money for her three children.
Let's take a detour as I guess I have not talked aboutsocioeconomics much. It pretty much feels like a third world countryentirely dependent on tourism, a bit poorer than India, but cleaner asit is less populated; although with the number of young people you seearound I am sure they are going through the same growth and issuesthat the other middle eastern countries are. Enough sidebar; I thenheaded out and right outside al-azhar was the mausoleum of sultanal-ghouri that had a beautiful mehrab, although a dude told me I couldnot take a picture. Next I walked through khan-al-khalili marketwhich is essentially what is depicted in all the market lithographsfrom ages ago, pretty much looks like that too except the mainpathways are all chalk full of trinkets for tourists-in-laid woodwork,papyrus, perfume glass bottles etc. etc. Although as you walk inwardsyou notice spices, jewelry, pottery, daily household things are allbeing sold this way to locals mostly. Interesting scenes, will justhave to share some pictures. The same on the mosques, I could keepwriting down the ten different mosques/tombs I went to but that wouldbore you guys. will share the pics with you, atleast from places Icould take them. The architecture of some of them is very differentbecause of the rich history as the Fatimids, the Ottomans,Ayuubids(Salauddin), Mamluks all were here at one point or the other,not to forget Alexander the Great and Napolean and the Brits... thatwill be explored tomorrow.
One impressive mosque/mousoleum/madrassa was that of Qalaun built in1279. Loved the intricate inlaid work, althugh was shooed out of themausoleum area, and the mosque area is very small. That is the casewith almost all these places, the actual mosque space is very limited,most of it is the madrassa or the mousoleum. One interesting thingabout Qalaun was that the complex had a hospital in it. It is the samehospital that was mentioned in Ibn Batuta's travel books from the1300s-nothing impressive, but cool that it was built that long ago.Another impressive building was the Mosque of Al-muayyad, seemedrecently renovated, had a very open courtyard, reminded me of theMughal mosques in India, was mostly empty except for this old Muezzinwho kept trying to charm us into a bakhsheesh.Oh, I forgot to tell you, during my wanderings into the mosques, Ibumped into this woman, Christina. At the entrance of qalaun she askedme how much I had to pay to get in, and I said I didn't, there is noticket to any of these places except one of the mousoleums. She saidshe was asked for an entrance fee at all the mosques and not allowedin a few. So, we decided to go together to a few of them and see what happens. She was not asked for tickets anymore and I could get herinto the female areas. Although in one of the mosques, she startedimitating my movements prayer and this woman stopped her and told hernot to do it. l understand how it might bother some people, but whatis disrespectful if someone tries to do what we do in prayer? Absurd objections I tell you. How is this not against da'waa(not that I amdoing any)? Also, one of the woman objected to my nail polish, but Ialways ignore that...
During the 4 hours or so that we were together Ilearned all about how Christina was this 50 year old from, BaselSwitzerland who had a freak accident where she fell on her head andwas in the hospital for 3 months or so, in the meantime her husbandleft her and it took her a while to get back to normal and startearning again to raise her 4 kids, one of whom died (oi wei, we haveit easy...). She is an artist working with modern media. She spentsome time in Cairo and realized that there are others less fortunatethan her and that helps her keep perspective so she keeps coming backevery few years. Another character that I met today was Mohammad Said;BTW, everyone around is Ahmad, Mohd., Abdul or Ali-bet you, use one ofthese and someone will respond with a 90% probability. Mohd. took usup the minarets of one of these mosques. It was a great experience tosee the whole city from the top. Reminded me of the view from theclock tower of a church in Geneva. Mohd. has been doing this for 15years (he was 28) and makes a living off the bakhsheesh he gets fromtaking people up. Said goodbye to Christina at around 5:00, she wasstaying at a hotel right around the area with her son and daughter.Near her hotel(in the same midan) saw the last mosque I had notcovered-the Al-Sayyadna-al-Hassan mosque.
Apparently this is where thehead of Hassan (the prophet's grandson) is buried. Although anothermosque in Damascus claims the same thing, but who is keeping track.This complex was fun though, a complete blast of all the senses, thewhole square had tables lined up from the neighboring restaurantsgetting ready for iftar and probably thousands of locals and touristsclamoring for space on the ground, along with humungous tourist busesand mopeds. Loudspeakers were blaring sufi chants intermingled withthe Quran and smells of spices etc. were emanating from the entranceof the Khan al Khalili. Ended up at the girls section of the mosquewhich is completely separate (the only one I came across today) and itjust so happened that the tomb(if a head(allegedly) is the only thingthere, is it still a tomb) was open from this entrance and got tocheck it out for like 2 minutes before the guys took over and theentrance was closed. Very colorful and impressive ornamental decor.The first masjid that I noticed the use of color to this extent. Hadto pay the guy to keep the shoes at entrance and didn't have change sohe kept the 20 saying, donations to the masjid. I hope so! All aroundthe mosque there were people with large mats(chatayees) and men andwomen sitting on them with some woman cooking rice and meat rightthere on what looked like camping stoves. Some people were alsodistributing pre-made iftars. I ended up making my way to one of therestaurant tables and had traditional iftar with kibbeh and otherkababs (pigeon was also served although I opted out of it...) And thishibiscus drink again, whose name escapes me... Anyways, after beingproposed at by one of the waiters, decided its high time to go forMaghrib. Returned to al-Hassan and prayed and sat there for a few.Remembered I had bought guavas with Christina as she had never tastedone and began eating one. This old woman noticed and came and asked mefor one and the two of us shared a non-verbal experience. Another funexperience was when Christina and I were in the redone mosque, thisyoung girl walked over and we communicated enough to understand thatshe was asking us if we wanted to buy shoes as she had a stall outsidethe mosque that she was manning(or womanning), we said no thanks withthe help of a few words from the guidebook and she was so excited tosee the book with Arabic and English side by side and asked where shecould buy one. She is apparently studying tourism oraccounting(couldn't understand which) at the Cairo University.Anyways, I got her address and told her I will mail a betterbook(perhaps an English-Arabic dictionary).Back at the rooftop. Mostly large groups of young people toinight.Feel like I am Jane Goodall witnessing the dating rituals of theaffluent Egyptians. They are in groups of 5-8 equally distributed,drinking chai/kahwa/water/bebsi and sheesha while Arabic pop isblaring. Some girls have an interesting way of not shaking hands withthe guys-they just give it a clap instead of holding the hand. Equaldistribution of hijab and non-hijab. Mostly all wearing fitting topsand jeans/pants.Anyways, as much as I love the breeze and the view of the Nile lit-up,I should head to bed so as not to start late tomorrow. One of my Bschool friends Mauricio also arrives tomorrow for the day. May shiphim to the pyramids. Will be meeting Sundus tomorrow(she had some workto finish before the eid holiday today), we are going to go on aboat(falluka) ride on the Nile, will explore the Citadel(build bySalauddin during the crusades) and the Coptic churches as well. If Ihave time will also go to the Islamic Art Museum, the book says itsperpetually closed, although the concierge said it may be open. Whoknows, perhaps the book does lie!Ma-as-salama,R
9/30/08
9/28/08
Travelogue: Day I: Egypt
It was an interesting start as I noticed that the Egyptian Museum is right behind the hotel. It is full of stuff that is basically anything and everything that came out of archaeological sites--Mummies, pottery, jewelry, tons of hyeroglyphics on boxes etc. Also had these carts that looked like horse-drawn carriages from Ben Hur. What was perhaps more telling was that it was pretty run down. It was 80 degrees out and the Museum has no AC or climate control of any sort
and you have rows and rows of Mummies and limestone stuff sitting around, some in boxes that the British probably built 100s of years ago when they invaded. Also, there is no description of anything, except that it is chronologically organized. That said, it was a more fun way of exploring a museum, you pretty much went to things that attracted you, read minimal descriptions if available, and also saw the more important things because you know where the tourist guides and 50,000 tourists are all gathered.
The guidebook surprisingly had a good description of stuff. There was very intricate Jewelry, I thought it was cool how they had figured out clasps, and colorful beads etc. thousands of years ago and there was such fine detail and exquisite craftsmanship. Another thing that they had were these pots(like vases) that had different heads of animals as their tops-there was a monkey, jackal, goat(I think) and snake; I bumped into a description on the wall that said that each of these signify which organ was taken out and put into these so that it wouldn't rot with the Mummy. One was for lungs, the other for Liver, another for intestines and I forget what the last was. They would place these with the Mummy so that when the soul came back for the
body to be reborn, it would know where to find these things. Genius! Although I wonder where it would find these among literally the million other things that were left with the Mummy. Not unlike the Terracotta soldiers I guess, although that was one and this was about
100 plus that we know of so far. That reminds me, it was interesting to see Chinese and Russian
tourists (and more fun, Egyptian guides speaking Chinese and Russian) for the first time. Also could hear Swedish, German etc.
Anyways. After 4 hours of this and smelling sweat and 5000 years of decalcification, decided
to duck out. Oh one more thing, everything was guarded by guards and other workers--there were three different uniforms, so I am sure it was different levels, but they were all dozing off or chatting with each other. At one point I noticed that all the workers in the blue uniforms ran out(like 15 of them) and this woman outside gave each of them like 100 Egyptian(EL, conversion rate $1=~5EL); wasn't sure what that was about.
Anyways, got out at about Noon and thought I should head to the Pyramids as it was close to afternoon opening time-tickets are given only twice a day in a limited amount. Guidebook said I could cab it for 20-25EL to and 40EL back and the ticket would be 100EL(could have
done it more cheaper with 4EL with their version of the Tempo, but didn't want to bother finding the getting off and on point as only the locals know where they are and didn't feel like practicing my Arabic, they do look at you a bit strangely that you are traveling alone). As I was walking out of the hotel lobby though, I happen to glance that American Express had a tour as well and it was all inclusive for 180EL-figured it was a good enough deal with English guide and airconditioned minibus and opted for that instead. It was me and 7 Swedes in the bus. The pyramids are in Giza which is across the Nile from Cairo. Its exactly like the Boston-Cambridge situation. Its about
a 25 minute drive from where I am staying. One thing you do notice as soon as you get a bit out the city is practically all the buildings are all unfinished. Redbrick, no plaster, iron beams open and sticking out. Read later that it is the way Egyptians evade taxes--unfinished building, will have to pay taxes when finished, so let's leave it perpetually in build mode. You would think govt would have caught on by now.
Anyways, the Pyramids are pretty much on a sandy plateau with limestone dug up all around. This complex had 3 main ones. Huma-i am sorry to say behind one of the smaller pyramids were three even more little ones and I was told that that was for the 3 main wives. Its basically a complex of graves essentially, if you think about it. With important people closer to the Emperor's grave-the largest pyramid, family next, nobles after and common folk somewhere out there. Anyways, apparently they were gilded with white limestone and gold and the tops had solid gold so the sun would make them glimmer but it has all been pillaged. One interesting thing the guide mentioned was that the limestone was now beginning to deteriorate because of a sudden, due to global warming, egypt is becoming humid and humidity is apparently the worst enemy for limestone. sigh! In one of the pyramids, you can crawl in. I tried, was claustrophobic and about to pass out from smelling sweat and walked back out. Apparently didn't miss much as there is just a burial chamber and no hyeroglyphivs or anything. The one in another town is more interesting I was told.
There was the usual hoard of touristy gimmicks with camel and horse rides that you have to endlessly bargain and trinkets. Saw the Sphinx next, same complex. Apparently when they were done digging up all the limestone around the pyramids to make them there was this mound of bad quality limestone left, it looked like a lion so they shaped it like one and put the pharoah's head on it. It used to be colorful and gold with a beard but no more. The beard is apparently in the V&A museum. After about 2.5 hours we were done walking around and ended up at a genuine papyrus store as a last stop. I got a good bargain on a market scene because the owner noticed I was fasting(didn't order drinks); gave me a couple of pieces free and the market scene at 1/3rd the marked price. I am sure he still made a profit, but it was the gesture. On the way back through the crazy traffic, noticed that a BMW stopped on the middle of the highway and
about 10 people rushed to it and the guy gave them all money. The ones that got hold of the money were arguing with the others to share. The guide explained that it is the rich distributing zakat this way in Ramadan. Very inefficient and demeaning way I think, but hey, if it works... Maybe that is what the woman at the museum was doing as well.
Came to the hotel right in time to take a quick shower before heading out to hunt for iftar. The concierge pointed out a place on the map that was walkable distance and traditional Egyptian food. I walked over and got thoroughly lost for half an hour or so as there are no street signs that make sense(perhaps its the map). Could hear the Maghrib azaan so bought fresh mango juice from a store and broke the fast, a passerby was distributing dates to everyone so took one of those and noticed the sign for the restaurant right in front of me, but it was closed. Most people around were breaking their fast with food they took out of lunch boxes-looked like rice, meat, peas and carrots, bread, stuffed peppers and lentil soup. Anyways, the most crowded places at this time were KFC and Hardee's, full of families, young couples, all dining on fried chicken. Found one restaurant but the clientelle looked almost all male, so decided to walk back to the hotel and opted for the pre-fixe iftar at one of the hotel restaurants. Drank like three bottles of water! Was so tired that came to my room and crashed. Woke up an hour and a half later and am now at the rooftop restaurant/tapas place. Although the menu has nothing spanish on it. The weather is great-70 degrees pbably with a breeze. Am staring at the nile all lit up. Families, other tourists, arabs, all hanging out smoking sheesha. Had some foul(red beans) and Kharoub(like hibiscus tea-a special ramadan drink) and am now thinking of retiring to bed.
If you have read this far, I commend your patience. Tomorrow, Islamic
Cairo and Al Azhar University. Meet with a friend of a friend, sundus,
for iftar.
and you have rows and rows of Mummies and limestone stuff sitting around, some in boxes that the British probably built 100s of years ago when they invaded. Also, there is no description of anything, except that it is chronologically organized. That said, it was a more fun way of exploring a museum, you pretty much went to things that attracted you, read minimal descriptions if available, and also saw the more important things because you know where the tourist guides and 50,000 tourists are all gathered.
The guidebook surprisingly had a good description of stuff. There was very intricate Jewelry, I thought it was cool how they had figured out clasps, and colorful beads etc. thousands of years ago and there was such fine detail and exquisite craftsmanship. Another thing that they had were these pots(like vases) that had different heads of animals as their tops-there was a monkey, jackal, goat(I think) and snake; I bumped into a description on the wall that said that each of these signify which organ was taken out and put into these so that it wouldn't rot with the Mummy. One was for lungs, the other for Liver, another for intestines and I forget what the last was. They would place these with the Mummy so that when the soul came back for the
body to be reborn, it would know where to find these things. Genius! Although I wonder where it would find these among literally the million other things that were left with the Mummy. Not unlike the Terracotta soldiers I guess, although that was one and this was about
100 plus that we know of so far. That reminds me, it was interesting to see Chinese and Russian
tourists (and more fun, Egyptian guides speaking Chinese and Russian) for the first time. Also could hear Swedish, German etc.
Anyways. After 4 hours of this and smelling sweat and 5000 years of decalcification, decided
to duck out. Oh one more thing, everything was guarded by guards and other workers--there were three different uniforms, so I am sure it was different levels, but they were all dozing off or chatting with each other. At one point I noticed that all the workers in the blue uniforms ran out(like 15 of them) and this woman outside gave each of them like 100 Egyptian(EL, conversion rate $1=~5EL); wasn't sure what that was about.
Anyways, got out at about Noon and thought I should head to the Pyramids as it was close to afternoon opening time-tickets are given only twice a day in a limited amount. Guidebook said I could cab it for 20-25EL to and 40EL back and the ticket would be 100EL(could have
done it more cheaper with 4EL with their version of the Tempo, but didn't want to bother finding the getting off and on point as only the locals know where they are and didn't feel like practicing my Arabic, they do look at you a bit strangely that you are traveling alone). As I was walking out of the hotel lobby though, I happen to glance that American Express had a tour as well and it was all inclusive for 180EL-figured it was a good enough deal with English guide and airconditioned minibus and opted for that instead. It was me and 7 Swedes in the bus. The pyramids are in Giza which is across the Nile from Cairo. Its exactly like the Boston-Cambridge situation. Its about
a 25 minute drive from where I am staying. One thing you do notice as soon as you get a bit out the city is practically all the buildings are all unfinished. Redbrick, no plaster, iron beams open and sticking out. Read later that it is the way Egyptians evade taxes--unfinished building, will have to pay taxes when finished, so let's leave it perpetually in build mode. You would think govt would have caught on by now.
Anyways, the Pyramids are pretty much on a sandy plateau with limestone dug up all around. This complex had 3 main ones. Huma-i am sorry to say behind one of the smaller pyramids were three even more little ones and I was told that that was for the 3 main wives. Its basically a complex of graves essentially, if you think about it. With important people closer to the Emperor's grave-the largest pyramid, family next, nobles after and common folk somewhere out there. Anyways, apparently they were gilded with white limestone and gold and the tops had solid gold so the sun would make them glimmer but it has all been pillaged. One interesting thing the guide mentioned was that the limestone was now beginning to deteriorate because of a sudden, due to global warming, egypt is becoming humid and humidity is apparently the worst enemy for limestone. sigh! In one of the pyramids, you can crawl in. I tried, was claustrophobic and about to pass out from smelling sweat and walked back out. Apparently didn't miss much as there is just a burial chamber and no hyeroglyphivs or anything. The one in another town is more interesting I was told.
There was the usual hoard of touristy gimmicks with camel and horse rides that you have to endlessly bargain and trinkets. Saw the Sphinx next, same complex. Apparently when they were done digging up all the limestone around the pyramids to make them there was this mound of bad quality limestone left, it looked like a lion so they shaped it like one and put the pharoah's head on it. It used to be colorful and gold with a beard but no more. The beard is apparently in the V&A museum. After about 2.5 hours we were done walking around and ended up at a genuine papyrus store as a last stop. I got a good bargain on a market scene because the owner noticed I was fasting(didn't order drinks); gave me a couple of pieces free and the market scene at 1/3rd the marked price. I am sure he still made a profit, but it was the gesture. On the way back through the crazy traffic, noticed that a BMW stopped on the middle of the highway and
about 10 people rushed to it and the guy gave them all money. The ones that got hold of the money were arguing with the others to share. The guide explained that it is the rich distributing zakat this way in Ramadan. Very inefficient and demeaning way I think, but hey, if it works... Maybe that is what the woman at the museum was doing as well.
Came to the hotel right in time to take a quick shower before heading out to hunt for iftar. The concierge pointed out a place on the map that was walkable distance and traditional Egyptian food. I walked over and got thoroughly lost for half an hour or so as there are no street signs that make sense(perhaps its the map). Could hear the Maghrib azaan so bought fresh mango juice from a store and broke the fast, a passerby was distributing dates to everyone so took one of those and noticed the sign for the restaurant right in front of me, but it was closed. Most people around were breaking their fast with food they took out of lunch boxes-looked like rice, meat, peas and carrots, bread, stuffed peppers and lentil soup. Anyways, the most crowded places at this time were KFC and Hardee's, full of families, young couples, all dining on fried chicken. Found one restaurant but the clientelle looked almost all male, so decided to walk back to the hotel and opted for the pre-fixe iftar at one of the hotel restaurants. Drank like three bottles of water! Was so tired that came to my room and crashed. Woke up an hour and a half later and am now at the rooftop restaurant/tapas place. Although the menu has nothing spanish on it. The weather is great-70 degrees pbably with a breeze. Am staring at the nile all lit up. Families, other tourists, arabs, all hanging out smoking sheesha. Had some foul(red beans) and Kharoub(like hibiscus tea-a special ramadan drink) and am now thinking of retiring to bed.
If you have read this far, I commend your patience. Tomorrow, Islamic
Cairo and Al Azhar University. Meet with a friend of a friend, sundus,
for iftar.
9/11/08
Let's Discuss
I'm taking a class on human rights in which we discuss whether human rights exist, whether they are natural or positive law (meaning are people born with them or are they created by men and institutions?), and whether there will ever be any consensus on universal rights. Along with those questions come attendant issues of dialogue, language, power dialectics and political struggles, and what happens when some (powerful) countries start naming what's going on in other (less powerful) countries. The problem of countries naming and condemning what goes on in other countries is a difficult one, particularly given the force of state sovereignty in foreign relations, but when those countries' power is unequally weighted, it can get really tricky. This is an interesting article I read a while ago in the London Review, but am reading again now as I begin to rethink these questions.
LRB
8 March 2007
Mahmood Mamdani
The Politics of Naming: Genocide, Civil War, Insurgency
Mahmood Mamdani
The similarities between Iraq and Darfur are remarkable. The estimate of the number of civilians killed over the past three years is roughly similar. The killers are mostly paramilitaries, closely linked to the official military, which is said to be their main source of arms. The victims too are by and large identified as members of groups, rather than targeted as individuals. But the violence in the two places is named differently. In Iraq, it is said to be a cycle of insurgency and counter-insurgency; in Darfur, it is called genocide. Why the difference? Who does the naming? Who is being named? What difference does it make?
The most powerful mobilisation in New York City is in relation to Darfur, not Iraq. One would expect the reverse, for no other reason than that most New Yorkers are American citizens and so should feel directly responsible for the violence in occupied Iraq. But Iraq is a messy place in the American imagination, a place with messy politics. Americans worry about what their government should do in Iraq. Should it withdraw? What would happen if it did? In contrast, there is nothing messy about Darfur. It is a place without history and without politics; simply a site where perpetrators clearly identifiable as ‘Arabs’ confront victims clearly identifiable as ‘Africans’.
http://www.lrb.co.uk/v29/n05/mamd01_.html
LRB
8 March 2007
Mahmood Mamdani
The Politics of Naming: Genocide, Civil War, Insurgency
Mahmood Mamdani
The similarities between Iraq and Darfur are remarkable. The estimate of the number of civilians killed over the past three years is roughly similar. The killers are mostly paramilitaries, closely linked to the official military, which is said to be their main source of arms. The victims too are by and large identified as members of groups, rather than targeted as individuals. But the violence in the two places is named differently. In Iraq, it is said to be a cycle of insurgency and counter-insurgency; in Darfur, it is called genocide. Why the difference? Who does the naming? Who is being named? What difference does it make?
The most powerful mobilisation in New York City is in relation to Darfur, not Iraq. One would expect the reverse, for no other reason than that most New Yorkers are American citizens and so should feel directly responsible for the violence in occupied Iraq. But Iraq is a messy place in the American imagination, a place with messy politics. Americans worry about what their government should do in Iraq. Should it withdraw? What would happen if it did? In contrast, there is nothing messy about Darfur. It is a place without history and without politics; simply a site where perpetrators clearly identifiable as ‘Arabs’ confront victims clearly identifiable as ‘Africans’.
http://www.lrb.co.uk/v29/n05/mamd01_.html
9/5/08
Op-Ed
Ignore Hopelessness NOT Homelessness in NYC
Sitting on the train on my way home and all I want—like most of the riders—is to get home, eat dinner, and watch a little TV before going to sleep. While passing time playing
Homelessness is one of the most depressing parts of living in
Looking for solutions, I come across another layer to the problem: many homeless people are also mentally ill, needing specialized care. I doubt they all had mental issues and then ended up on the street. Rather, I suspect that for many the detachment from reality began after losing their homes. Once one loses the ritual of cleansing and changing clothes (the daily routines that hold us intact), perhaps all the other things that once made sense start to slip away.
Although single men are the most visible portion of the homeless population (which is on the rise), families, particularly children, make up over two-thirds of those who are in need of housing. These children are often subjected to greater exposure to violence and are up to three times more likely be physically or sexually abused. Services are available to address issues of child abuse, but unfortunately society's sympathy to a child's trauma wanes as he or she gets older, which only perpetuates the problem.
The truth is any one of us could be one of them—all it takes is one false move or for fate to deal a blow: the loss of a job, a marriage break-up, a breakdown. Any one of us could also play a role in improving the situation. Several organizations, like Partnership for the Homeless, make it possible for us to volunteer in a homeless shelter or donate to a charitable organization. We (the average working New Yorker) may be frightened about getting involved or overwhelmed by the thought of another responsibility, but even the most skittish among us can take the bold step—albeit small—toward improving the lives of all our city’s residents. We can do more than be depressed.
September 19-20: What is Feminist Politics Now? Local and Global
Columbia University
http://www.columbia.edu/cu/irwag/events/main/fempoliticsnow/
Columbia University
http://www.columbia.edu/cu/irwag/events/main/fempoliticsnow/
8/24/08
Went to this brunch place in San Francisco called Boogaloos. Had always heard about it - and absolutely loved it. The crowd ferociously eccentric, alternative and hip. After which we went to roche bobois - this very contemporary french furniture place. It wasn't my style frankly - mine is more dark wood, Asian/Eastern/Ethnic/I don't quite know how to term it.
Am feeling terribly sick today - have this bad cold and I am trying to take as much Vitamin C as I can take to get over it.
5/4/08
The Reverse Dictionary
This is so cool. If you have ever had an idea but searched for the exact word to encapsulate that idea or communicate it to someone else (or wondered if such a word exists), then you may appreciate the reverse dictionary.
http://dictionary.reference.com/reverse/
Here's an article about it:
http://www.lexico.com/blog/2008/01/23/the-reverse-dictionary/
Enjoy!
http://dictionary.reference.com/reverse/
Here's an article about it:
http://www.lexico.com/blog/2008/01/23/the-reverse-dictionary/
Enjoy!
4/24/08
Taking a break!
We are beyond busy and are taking a break!
Hopefully, we'll be back to blogging in no time.
Till then,
Adios.
Love
Us
Hopefully, we'll be back to blogging in no time.
Till then,
Adios.
Love
Us
4/2/08
Please do not become a "Corporate Cockroach" - TD
Please do not become a Corporate Cockroach!
A corporate cockroach is someone who becomes one of the many non-descript workers in a company. They do just enough to get by, doing no more or no less than asked. The “cc” blends in among the mass, always does what he is told and never questions anything because doing so might make him/her memorable and/or a potential target for retaliation (e.g. probing questions, responsibilities, accountability, leadership role). They stay under the radar so that they can live comfortably and retire at the company 30 years later. They don’t want to be noticed or known by upper management for fear that when times get tough, the people who management knows by name will be the first to go. They’re useless creatures, but will fight to the death when they feel that their job security is threatened. They will leave the company just as they started…bored, useless and unknown.
3/20/08
3/14/08
Suth's thoughts for the day...
The other day I was on the bus and an individual got on and started to have an argument with the bus driver. My take was that the guy wanted a ride and didn't have money to pay. The bus driver told him he would have to get off at the next stop. From then on the man kept cursing and arguing. I was seated in the middle of the bus and I wondered how long it would take me to run to the front if the bus driver was clobbered by this guy. You know, its odd, but I was surprised that the thought entered my head. My younger sister once explained to me the psychology of humans, whereby we often run away or close our eyes to those in need around us. We've often heard the stories of an individual who was robbed/raped etc. and several people were standing around, but they did not intervene. Per my sis, people often believe since there are so many people around, that someone else will take on the responsibility to help. We thereby make ourselves feel at ease that we are not in the wrong.
I have a cousin in london who was just sitting on the train, returning home from school. A young 19 year old boy, who to another's eyes may appear to be a thug because of his baggy shirts and a faze haircut. He is South Asian. Another South Asian ran in to the same compartment and sat down, breathing heavily. A group of boy of another background ran in and started beating this guy. My cousin looked down and away. At one point he looked up. They noticed and they started beating him as well. This occured in the U.K. While racial problems are by far from over and considered to be the more obvious cause of violence in this case, it really makes you think. What would you do? My cousin had a broken nose and a lot of pain, but he was safe. When do we step in and say no and when do we step back and let a situation play out in front of our eyes? Do we need to prep ourselves in advance as I felt the need to do on the bus? Does it differ if you are male or female? Is a female more likely to call 911, is a male more likely to get involved in a fight?
Another situation for your thoughts. In the midnight hours of downtown Toronto, a large festival was taking place. Out of nowhere a black SUV made a sudden left turn and swiped a guy crossing the street (on his bike). The sidewalks were filled with hundreds of festive-goers. At that moment 10-15 people ran towards the victim, some to help him, some to get the license plate on the vehicle. I was not one of those people. In shock, I watched as these shadows ran past me. For those who do know me, I pride myself on being kind, trusting and helpful. So much so that sometimes it does get me in trouble. So this made me stop and think, why didn't I rush forward? Why did I wait? Am I one of the bystanders mentioned by my sis, who waited for others to help. How do I change my behaviour and how can we encourage others to change their behaviour. When we as individuals stand up for others rights and are intolerant of violence, maybe, just maybe, those who commit the offences will think twice.
3/10/08
Couldn't be happier today!!
Check this out everyone!! I am so proud to be alum of both: Goldman Sachs as well as Stanford Graduate School of Business. Both these institutions are putting their best foot forward in educating women in developing nations in business education.
I truly couldn't be happier!
http://www.10000women.org/
xo,
Huma
I truly couldn't be happier!
http://www.10000women.org/
xo,
Huma
3/6/08
What matters to me…that didn’t before
By Janice Li
The most important thing that I learned from my two years at the GSB is to be myself. Sounds simple, right? As cliché as it may sound, to me, being authentic is the most powerful attribute that a leader can possess. I came to the business school hoping to build skills and connections that will enable me to change people, change organizations and change the world. After two years, I realize that it all boils down to being “real”.
So what does being authentic mean? At the beginning of my first year, it seemed that I was in a race to impress everyone around me and it was such a consuming experience. My image of a Stanford MBA was a bright, energetic, confident and giving individual. I felt great pressure to be that person even though I struggled to achieve that image of perfection. Sometimes it felt overwhelming. For example, even though I did not feel like speaking in class, or did not feel I had a comment really worth sharing, I would force myself to raise my hand. I was afraid others would see me as incompetent if I remained silent; in short, I allowed others to dictate my sense of self worth and confidence.
I was blessed to be able to listen to many great leaders here at the GSB—definitely one of business school’s best perks. I was in tears when Lynne Twist (founding executive of the Hunger Project) shared her experience with poverty and children in Africa, and I was in awe when I listened to Richard Fairbanks’ touching story about Capital One and his father. I was inspired by all these leaders and realized that the common thread among them was their commitment to being themselves—to pursuing their passions, to maintaining their integrity, to being authentic. They’re not just confident; they’re secure about who they are.
Thanks to the intimate conversations I have had with many of you, my classmates and friends, I realize that I need to believe in myself; that I am at heart a special person. Only I have the power to influence how I feel about myself. Many of my fears of how others saw me were based on erroneous stories that I had made up in my mind. (Now, I do not even feel awkward ordering Diet Coke in those wild GSB parties!). I believe the best leaders are those who understand themselves and love themselves, and those who allow their confidence in who they are to shine through—it is this type of authenticity that others respond to. This is one of the most valuable lessons that I learned in business school and something that I will take with me as I strive to lead in the future.
Janice Li, recent graduate of Stanford Graduate School of Business.
2/28/08
Buying a Car couldn't be any easier
Dear Friends,
If any of you are looking to buy a car - cartelligent.com is the way to go. I was getting a bit overwhelmed with the whole process of looking for a car and a good deal. It was hard to make sure that I wasn't getting jipped! And then came in cartelligent.com!
I cannot tell you how stressless the process has been - they do all the negotiating for you, and the salespeople are some of the nicest people that I have dealt with!!
From their website:
CARTELLIGENT is a new car-buying service that guarantees you a better price than you can geton your own.We save you the time of looking, negotiating and getting the sales runaround, making the whole experience faster, easier and more pleasant.Thousands of satisfied customers buy from CARTELLIGENT every year. You can, too!
Check 'em out!
cheers
Huma
2/25/08
Music!
I couldn't be prouder to have gone to Mount Holyoke! It has produced an amazing band in Pakistan - ZebandHaniya.com. I remember Zeb as an underclass-woman at Mount Holyoke and her voice is to die for!
I highly urge for you to listen to her songs at zebandhaniya.com. Her cousin Haniya went to Smith, our brilliant sister college not too far away.
Although the songs are in Urdu, I am sure that you will be intoxicated by the music and the feelings that they emanate in their songs - the feeling of strength, beauty and sensuality. Check it out at http://www.zebandhaniya.com/
xo!
Bleeding
I do it every month. For a whole week. And there's no tiny toons bandaid I can put on it. And you know what's worse, all my life, I've been thinking that I have to pretend that it's ok, I'm ok.Well it's not. And I'm not. I'm bleeding profusely and uninterruptedly! I can feel my own body tearing itself apart, literally, and then shedding itself rather grotesquely and graphically. Yeah yeah, I don't buy that the whole self-renewal theory applies here.
I have to admit it now, it's part of my self purging: I actually thought it was woozy (I know that's not a word, but the opinion really isn't ready for a real word, don't you think?) for us women to say oh but my period just started and I'm cramping terribly so no, I can't. I can't to whatever: hang out, have this conversation, run that errand… I would feel a certain disdain for that excuse, I would never accept it as a real excuse. I used to think well suck it up and deal with it, it's part of life, and this kind of attitude is what's kept us hitting the glass pad. I know, I know, I'm repenting.
But as I go through the journey of realizing that I have to accept and confront things and not remain in denial, it sunk in. 'You know what, I should not be forced to be as rigorous and productive during Aunt Flow's visits.' I have no explanation for this, but neither do I have a choice (one of the very, very few areas I can actually say that latter bit about). And, I believe that my gender's scientifically-proven greater capacity for physical endurance more than makes up for it, as does my intelligence quotient as a woman.
While I'm sometimes equally as un-thrilled about spiritually-based limitations on menstruating women, some that I hear about in other cultures, some that I adhere to, I sometimes think that maybe these seeming limitations were at some point constructed by women themselves to give us some time off. I mean don't use it as a license to be a raging hormonal monster, but at the same time who wants to cook three meals every single day? (Link to that thought, fyi: I've heard that in some cultures it used to be, or maybe still is, that menstruating women aren't allowed in the kitchen or to cook or something) (By the tangential way, part of all that feminist baggage has been confronted and I have just begun to admit that I do enjoy cooking - but only when I don't have to do it. Tangent # 2: Hmm, is that akin to enjoying writing when I don't have to write? By writing being an integral part of my professional choices, I hardly write for catharsis or leisure – I even associate my prized laptop with work and distance myself from it when actively trying to relax.)
So, I'm thinking of recommending to my wonderfully forward thinking corporate clients that they should have policies giving women flex times (at the very least) during their special time of the month – or wait, you know what no more pseudo-euphemisms, scratch that, during the days when their uterus self destructs and bleeds to death, only to regenerate and re-kill itself. Sounds like some torture technique out of hell, doesn't it? It's true. I'm grateful that I rarely feel horribly – in fact when it started to bleed to semi-death this afternoon somehow I instantly went into this holiday-mood, well not full-swing, but I was kind of happy. Don't ask me to explain everything – that's half the bane of my existence, or so many close and dear ones tell me,: that I over-think everything.
So what do you think?
We get maternity and paternity leave, don't we? We've accepted that it's a biological need we can't deny until science figures out how men can give birth. Not as an enforcement, but as a choice. If you want go full-swing and be discreet about your suffering, that's fine too. But if you'd rather work from home in your pajamas, at the very least, then wouldn't you like to have that option? So why not - at least for the first day of our uterine self-destruction?
2/6/08
Confessions of a feminist voter
Courtney Skerritt is a proud graduate of Mount Holyoke College(my amazing class of 2001.)
I got to vote for her today. And it felt amazing. I don't know about the procedure in other states, but after one votes in Massachusetts they get a sticker. For most of the day, the message "I voted" screamed in bright blue ink from just below my left shoulder. Simply wearing such sticker prompted conversation amongst my colleagues as well as my students (I work in a high school). Although the conversation was good, I wish it had been more direct. What I really wish I had been wearing was a sticker that read "I voted for her". Those who know me knew I would vote for Hillary - I'm as close to a stereotypical Hillary supporter as you can get. For starters, I'm a women's college graduate. Secondly, l proudly dedicate my political leanings to issues relating to women and families and for those causes, she is our candiate. But as I watch the 2008 Presidential Election unfold, I can't help but reflect on my decision making process and the truth of feminism guiding my way.
It was not until the Iowa caucuses that I began to really pay attention to the presidential campaign. Prior to early January, the primaries were on my mind, but certainly did not capture my attention like they did for those living in the early primary states of New Hampshire and Iowa. Politics did not dominate family conversation over the holidays, but names like Obama, Hillary and Mitt passed through our lips as we talked about what was going on in our lives. But as the days ticked by, I knew I had to declare my intentions. As both sets of my parents live in New Hampshire, their mailboxes and inboxes were inundated with messages from the various campaigns; I watched as my husband weighed his options amongst the democractic candidates, finally deciding on Obama. His decision certainly made me question my leanings (as he stated a compelling case), but deep down I knew it was just a matter of time before I declared my intentions to vote for her. I am proud of my decision making. I listened to the candidates and even questioned my choice when the Clinton campaign began to sling more mud than I am comfortable with at the opponents. But with each passing day, I knew that this was my chance. When I walked into that booth today, not only was I able to exercise a right fought for me just 100 years ago, but I was able to vote for a woman. Elizabeth Cady Stanton would be proud. But what would make her more proud is knowing that I had a choice. Not only did I have the opportunity to vote, but I voted using a ballot with a woman's name listed. Not only did I get to vote for a woman, but I got to choose. And that is what is at the core of feminism. As Susan Sarandon is quoted in this week's Time Magazine, "It's insulting to assume that because you're a woman or a person of color, you would automatically back any woman or person of color. It's a little more complicated". Yes Susan, it is complicated. But as the debates raged on and platforms were expressed, I knew this was a woman who deserved my vote.
When it became clear to me Hillary was my candiate, I did not make public display of my preference. I did not wear a Clinton button. I did not post my decision on modern day personal billboards like Facebook or on my Gmail status. I wanted to, really I did. I wanted to scream so that fellow Americans in all corners would hear another voice in support of Hillary Clinton. But what held me back was fear of being sterotyped. I knew that voting for Hillary was what was expected of me and by keeping my vote to myself, perhaps I was excercising my right to just be. So maybe feminism has only gotten us so far? As the presidential campaign took a more central role in our daily lives, my friends and I had many conversations about who we would vote for. Almost always our discussion lead to the theme of feminism and choice. We all knew that we did not have to vote for Hillary just because we are women. Luckily we had a damn good one to choose from, but we did not have to wait for two women to run against each other so the gender card would be cancelled out. The pundits may argue a gender divide exists in America, but amongst the women I know, decisions were made based on issues, not estrogen. A strong, smart woman is what we get in Hillary Clinton and strong, smart women are going to vote for her. But they are going to vote for Obama, McCain, and Huckabee. And really, that is what matters. What matters is that they take the time to make a well reasoned, well researched decision. An old political saying goes, WHEN WOMEN VOTE WOMEN WIN. But secretly I hope that it is this woman who wins it all.
I got to vote for her today. And it felt amazing. I don't know about the procedure in other states, but after one votes in Massachusetts they get a sticker. For most of the day, the message "I voted" screamed in bright blue ink from just below my left shoulder. Simply wearing such sticker prompted conversation amongst my colleagues as well as my students (I work in a high school). Although the conversation was good, I wish it had been more direct. What I really wish I had been wearing was a sticker that read "I voted for her". Those who know me knew I would vote for Hillary - I'm as close to a stereotypical Hillary supporter as you can get. For starters, I'm a women's college graduate. Secondly, l proudly dedicate my political leanings to issues relating to women and families and for those causes, she is our candiate. But as I watch the 2008 Presidential Election unfold, I can't help but reflect on my decision making process and the truth of feminism guiding my way.
It was not until the Iowa caucuses that I began to really pay attention to the presidential campaign. Prior to early January, the primaries were on my mind, but certainly did not capture my attention like they did for those living in the early primary states of New Hampshire and Iowa. Politics did not dominate family conversation over the holidays, but names like Obama, Hillary and Mitt passed through our lips as we talked about what was going on in our lives. But as the days ticked by, I knew I had to declare my intentions. As both sets of my parents live in New Hampshire, their mailboxes and inboxes were inundated with messages from the various campaigns; I watched as my husband weighed his options amongst the democractic candidates, finally deciding on Obama. His decision certainly made me question my leanings (as he stated a compelling case), but deep down I knew it was just a matter of time before I declared my intentions to vote for her. I am proud of my decision making. I listened to the candidates and even questioned my choice when the Clinton campaign began to sling more mud than I am comfortable with at the opponents. But with each passing day, I knew that this was my chance. When I walked into that booth today, not only was I able to exercise a right fought for me just 100 years ago, but I was able to vote for a woman. Elizabeth Cady Stanton would be proud. But what would make her more proud is knowing that I had a choice. Not only did I have the opportunity to vote, but I voted using a ballot with a woman's name listed. Not only did I get to vote for a woman, but I got to choose. And that is what is at the core of feminism. As Susan Sarandon is quoted in this week's Time Magazine, "It's insulting to assume that because you're a woman or a person of color, you would automatically back any woman or person of color. It's a little more complicated". Yes Susan, it is complicated. But as the debates raged on and platforms were expressed, I knew this was a woman who deserved my vote.
When it became clear to me Hillary was my candiate, I did not make public display of my preference. I did not wear a Clinton button. I did not post my decision on modern day personal billboards like Facebook or on my Gmail status. I wanted to, really I did. I wanted to scream so that fellow Americans in all corners would hear another voice in support of Hillary Clinton. But what held me back was fear of being sterotyped. I knew that voting for Hillary was what was expected of me and by keeping my vote to myself, perhaps I was excercising my right to just be. So maybe feminism has only gotten us so far? As the presidential campaign took a more central role in our daily lives, my friends and I had many conversations about who we would vote for. Almost always our discussion lead to the theme of feminism and choice. We all knew that we did not have to vote for Hillary just because we are women. Luckily we had a damn good one to choose from, but we did not have to wait for two women to run against each other so the gender card would be cancelled out. The pundits may argue a gender divide exists in America, but amongst the women I know, decisions were made based on issues, not estrogen. A strong, smart woman is what we get in Hillary Clinton and strong, smart women are going to vote for her. But they are going to vote for Obama, McCain, and Huckabee. And really, that is what matters. What matters is that they take the time to make a well reasoned, well researched decision. An old political saying goes, WHEN WOMEN VOTE WOMEN WIN. But secretly I hope that it is this woman who wins it all.
1/25/08
Why Beauty Matters
Karly Randolph Pitman is a writer, speaker, and mother of four, as well as the founder of First Ourselves, an organization dedicated to encouraging women and mothers. http://www.firstourselves.com/first_ourselves/
Feeling beautiful, I've found, has very little to do with the reflection in the mirror, and everything to do with the inner landscape. In my work, I've talked with countless stunning women who can neither see nor accept their beauty. I've also spoken with size four women who aren't comfortable wearing a bathing suit in public; who bemoan their hips, butt, or thighs. Conversely, I know women who are at the heaviest they've ever been, and yet go swimming and clothes shopping with ease.
I'll save answering why some women are at home in their bodies, and some chastise every flaw, for another day. I think a more interesting question is why beauty matters at all. Why should we care what we look like? Why does feeling beautiful matter so much to women?
The two aspects of beauty
Feeling beautiful, I've found, has very little to do with the reflection in the mirror, and everything to do with the inner landscape. In my work, I've talked with countless stunning women who can neither see nor accept their beauty. I've also spoken with size four women who aren't comfortable wearing a bathing suit in public; who bemoan their hips, butt, or thighs. Conversely, I know women who are at the heaviest they've ever been, and yet go swimming and clothes shopping with ease.
I'll save answering why some women are at home in their bodies, and some chastise every flaw, for another day. I think a more interesting question is why beauty matters at all. Why should we care what we look like? Why does feeling beautiful matter so much to women?
The two aspects of beauty
Beauty is tricky, because it does, and doesn't matter. No, in the grand scheme of things, our appearance isn't important. On our deathbeds, we won't lament the time we spent dieting or berating ourselves for being a size 10. We are ultimately spiritual beings; our true essence is not our physical self. Our beauty will change, and fade; our spirit, by contrast, grows and evolves.
Yet we are not only spirit; we are also human. And our humanity brings all the challenges and blessings of living in a physical universe. Our bodies are a gift: the vehicle for experiencing the world through our senses. Our beauty is also a gift, something to be honored and appreciated and used, just as we honor, appreciate, and use our other earthly talents. For everything, there is a season. There is a season to relish your beauty, a season to enjoy your body, and that time is now.
Overfocusing on the body
The key to understanding beauty is to accept both aspects of ourselves, body and spirit. Each has its place. We become unbalanced and suffer pain when we lean too strongly towards one or the other. When we're too focused on our physical selves, we become rigid, perfectionistic, holding our bodies to impossible standards. We bemoan the onset of wrinkles, cellulite, gray hairs; we denigrate any wiggle or jiggle. We live for someday ("I'll take that dancing class when I lose fifteen pounds") and worship our youthful past. We white knuckle our sensuality, shame our natural human desire for sexual pleasure, satiating food, and physical comfort.
Even worse is when we hate our bodies for unconforming to our impossible expectations. We think that somehow we can love ourselves while hating our bodies. But this is impossible. How you feel about your physical self influences your feelings about every part of you. Your physical body is in the house in which the rest of you---your spirit, mind, and emotions---resides. Hating the vessel pollutes every part. If you loathe your body, you loathe yourself.
This is slavery to beauty; being in bondage. Bondage is when your self worth, how you feel about yourself as a person, is defined by your appearance. Your physical self will fluctuate. Some days, you'll look smashing. Some days, you won't. This is where your spirit comes in. If you appreciate your spirit, your being-ness, then you can accept the changes in your humanity without fear, knowing that wrinkles and cellulite don't change who you are.
Overfocusing on the spirit
However, this doesn't mean we should ignore our bodies' needs. Sometimes we feel guilty for caring about our appearance at all, especially women who are focused on their spirituality. We feel unholy for wearing make-up or desiring pretty clothes. We feel egoic because we feel better when we look better. When we take time for a massage or a pedicure, we feel like we're indulging in something slightly sinful. This is shame talking; not your spirit. Shame is simply another form of slavery; another form of bondage.
Focusing solely on the spirit, and ignoring the body's needs for rest, proper nutrition, exercise, and, yes, beauty, is just as harmful as overfocusing on the body. Devalueing your body is as painful as overvalueing your body (vanity): they are opposite sides of the same coin.
It's human and natural to have a need for beauty, just as it's human and natural to have a need for rest, solitude, and peace. It's normal to want to feel pretty; to enjoy a new outfit; to pamper your body so that it can look its best. It's okay to indulge the body.
Balancing body and spirit
But how do we acknowledge our need for beauty without become trapped by vanity? How do we navigate a world that defines beauty in narrow terms? How do we balance our humanity with our spirituality?
The answer is twofold: self love, and self care. It takes both. Self care is what motivates you to exercise, eat food that makes you feel good, and rest when you're tired. It's also what inspires you to find a dress that makes you feel sexy, style your hair, and paint your toes lavender. Self care is treating yourself to a yoga class, silk sheets, and a makeover. Self love, by contrast, is what enables you to completely and deeply love and accept yourself at all times, when your toes aren't painted; when you're grungy and sweaty or camping in the woods. Self love is accepting the loss of your beauty with grace and levity. Self love is embracing the abundance of the universe, letting other women feel beautiful, too.
Combining self love with self care is treating your body as well as, but not more importantly as, your spirit. It's embracing your humanity and your spirituality with equal measure. It's letting your inner beauty match your outer beauty, and apologizing for neither. It's expanding your definition of beauty to include you at your best, your worst, and everywhere in between.
It is, in a word, freedom.
1/21/08
Women We Love # 4: Tara Beteille
Tara Beteille is a dear friend of mine, and is currently pursuing her Ph.D at Stanford University, Palo Alto.
At this point, I’m in the fourth year of a PhD program in the Economics of Education at Stanford. Many things brought me to this university and program, but two things stand out. First, my work experience at ICICI Bank, India’s largest private sector bank, where I managed their non-profit funding in elementary education for four years. Second, the fact that I grew up in India, still a “developing” economy today, but also a large democracy — one that must contend with a deeply hierarchical, complex and changing social structure. Growth projections have been impressive, but these must be viewed against the fact that large sections of the population are deprived of basic health and education – and thereby the opportunity to participate and contribute to such growth – and potentially even jeopardize it.
I joined ICICI Bank within days of finishing my masters in economics from the Delhi School of Economics. This was 2000, I was 22 years old – and by most accounts, I had landed myself a pretty good job. I was going to head the bank’s non-profit funding in elementary education. ICICI Bank already had a long history in development sector assistance; now I would be helping them rethink their strategy, focus areas and terms of assistance. This was a very challenging job for a number of reasons, but mainly because there was no guarantee our new approach would make the kind of difference we were hoping for; unlike commercial work, social-sector work takes a while to show returns, and even then, many of these cannot be measured. Much of this would have been really intimidating had it not been for my coworkers, my immediate boss, who used to head the treasury mid-office operations and was a constant source of strength, and the big boss, who trusted our judgment and was always ready to stand by us.
As very young people, working on some very fundamental social problems, I think we achieved quite a bit. One of our initial battles was to be taken seriously by the people we wanted to work with: government groups, other non-profits, academia and multilateral agencies – they usually thought we’d come to sell credit cards. Nobody quite believed that an aggressive bank like ICICI Bank had any real interest in these matters. I think that changed very quickly; in fact, people began to come to us, not just for our money, but for help with strategy and thinking – and these were some of the best people in the field, people who had spent their lives working in the social sector. For me, one of the most rewarding moments was when my team was invited by the state government of a newly-formed state to coordinate setting up their educational systems. Related to being taken seriously was also the need to change corporate-sector participation in the social-sector in general, from being a publicity gimmick to a serious endeavor. I was nominated to the Confederation of Indian Industry’s National Committee on Primary Education and Literacy, where I would interact with different industry players regularly. I had a one-point agenda: to emphasize the importance of making real changes versus cosmetic ones. One of the other things my team and I did was build a research agenda, both for the work we funded and broader issues in elementary education. There was practically no rigorous impact evaluation of programs, but a lot of money going into whatever seemed like a good idea. I think we changed the culture on that quite a bit.
One of the main reasons for doing a PhD was my dissatisfaction with the kind of research proposals coming our way; policy research is very important, but it needs to be long-term, and we were not able to find good, long-term researchers. You know what they say about making numbers lie, right? That’s how most practitioner feel, and unfortunately, they are usually right. I’d like to change some of that. Being able to do serious policy-relevant research, stick with a research site, and use such research to improve the functioning of educational systems — that’s what motivates me. And Stanford is anyone’s paradise for learning such work.
1/14/08
Crowd the hillsides: Caroline Roga, '04
Little boxes, sweep against the green firs and strut among each other.
In the middle wires reach, drawing me onward towards Tokyo, and
Away from the peaceful tourist-trap of Kyoto.
My contribution is several pieces of paper and a fan.
The machines take my ticket. There are three shots left on the roll.
Five bags, I think. Like a metamorphosis,
I have come undone.
The sparse traveller grows, my hair is shorter, my group
Has swollen by one, there are presents, books, new shoes,
The outline of a pavilion that was lost.
To me Japan is rice fields, wild flowers gently tweaked to submission.
The soft circling of birds of prey against the noontime sky. Ramen. Hot mochi.
I will take you to my izakaya for sashimi that will have you throwing out cooking pots in wild abandon.
Nama beer-u onegaishimas
Japan is the first, long draught to quench this thirst.
In the middle wires reach, drawing me onward towards Tokyo, and
Away from the peaceful tourist-trap of Kyoto.
My contribution is several pieces of paper and a fan.
The machines take my ticket. There are three shots left on the roll.
Five bags, I think. Like a metamorphosis,
I have come undone.
The sparse traveller grows, my hair is shorter, my group
Has swollen by one, there are presents, books, new shoes,
The outline of a pavilion that was lost.
To me Japan is rice fields, wild flowers gently tweaked to submission.
The soft circling of birds of prey against the noontime sky. Ramen. Hot mochi.
I will take you to my izakaya for sashimi that will have you throwing out cooking pots in wild abandon.
Nama beer-u onegaishimas
Japan is the first, long draught to quench this thirst.
1/11/08
Be Careful What You Ask For, You Might Just Get It.
Moushumi Khan, a proud Graduate of Mount Holyoke College.
My law school application essay was entitled, “Bridge over Troubled Waters.” Fourteen years ago I wrote that the three things closest to my heart were Islam, Bangladesh and the necessity for individual critical thought. I defined myself as a bridge, as someone who tries her best to transcend barriers, to reach out to opposing camps. I ended by saying that I wanted to develop the skills of a mediator as well as a litigator, to bridge conflict as well as to engage in it. During interviews I went on about how I wanted to ‘serve my community,’ without really understanding what this meant.
As I come to end of my legal career and prepare to study public policy, and I reflect on these goals, I find that I am still passionate about Islam, Bangladesh and critical thought. Over the last six years in my private practice I have learned what it means to ‘serve my community’ in a post 9/11 America. I have started a consulting company, “Jisir (‘bridge’ in Arabic) Consulting” which seeks to help companies and organizations bridge relations with the Muslim community. I have been humbled by seeing my Muslim, Bangladeshi and other immigrant clients try to realize their American Dream. I have become frustrated at the state of international and interfaith relations. I have gone into debt paying tuition at the school of hard knocks trying to establish my legal practice. I am grateful to all those who took the time to mentor and provoke me into becoming a better lawyer and activist.
The biggest lesson that I have learned is that if you sincerely want something, you will get it. Perhaps it won’t be in the form that you expected or take longer than you hoped, but it will come. So be careful what you ask for. When I asked for the opportunity to serve my community, I did not think that would entail my learning how to do residential closings in Queens because my Bangladeshi cab driver clients were buying real estate, nor appealing deportation cases resulting from Special Registration since I had no interest or experience in real estate or immigration law; I could not have imagined that so-called Muslims would attack my country seven months after I started my solo legal practice and change the nature of my advocacy forever. I did not anticipate that I would become a spokesperson for those things that I held closest to my heart and speak out against my fellow Americans’ lack of critical thinking about the War on Terror. I have become a lawyer who is wary of the ways in which laws, such as the Patriot Act, are used for political ends. I am a lawyer who still believes that our legal system works and can protect all of our civil liberties. In the end, I have become a person who believes that no law can save us from the ravages of bigotry, that building community is the ultimate defense to terrorism. As the water underneath me gets more troubled, I continue to believe in the power of bridges in mediating conflict.
1/6/08
Mexico: HK
I just took a trip to Mexico with my sisters and would like to share some pictures with you. I have a lot going on and will soon share my stories from Mexico, truly a splendid nation.
1/1/08
Branching Out: Caroline Slama
I recently felt this rush to write down all my thoughts, feelings, and ideas for this world before my passage into scholarship at Bryn Mawr College would alter them. But minutes into taking inventory of my mind, the realization came that my thoughts were not the unadulterated “me” I had assumed they were. Finding the origin of even one thought I have would be comparable to tracing the lineage of topics in one of those late night conversations you have with a friend you haven’t seen for months. It’s impossible, as connections are made— between you and that old friend, or you and your mind—that you are not aware of, and that just slip by your consciousness. In sophomore year of high school, my English teacher dropped a faded pearl of wisdom on my class: he told us there were no connections. Without knowing exactly why, I found his words strangely empowering.
“But it’s so true,” I would later explain to doubting friends, “Nothing is connected outside the human mind. Everything we perceive, we perceive as ourselves, and each of us is an individual. So we can’t be sure that things that one person sees as connected are connected in every other individual mind.” Connections truly are gossamer-thin, wending their way through our minds, taking as peculiar a route as we wish them to take. It is a tribute to the power of our minds that we can forge bonds between so many discrete topics and objects, and that we sense these bonds as being so real. And if things are not inherently connected to each other, that means only thatwe have no time to waste in creating new ties and strengthening old ones, anchoring experiences in some sort of knit reality. Such connections give my life meaning. So, for my own sake, and for yours, I want to make bonds, connections, links, ties, anything that will harness everything we can lose and love into a network of humanity. This might sound like an enormous dream, but don’t be daunted. In reality, it’s just many little, connected ideas in the mind of a new freshwoman.
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